


Burial

by Tarvok



Series: What It Means To Be Saiyan [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Beginnings, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Saiyan Culture, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 09:01:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarvok/pseuds/Tarvok
Summary: What is dead should stay dead.





	Burial

**Author's Note:**

> I've longed to write this entire series for a very long time. I didn't feel confident or comfortable enough to do it, however, so you got Kakarot, My Kakarot, and As Written by Goku out of my attempts to get through and come to this place of courage.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with.

Burial

By Tarvok

 

What is dead should stay dead. Feelings of loneliness and sadness have been constant companions for so long that I do not feel able to turn them aside.

He is patient with me, walking beside me as the friend he has nearly always been. A friend I did not see or appreciate when I perhaps should have.

We talk, about anything and everything. He listens to my stories and I listen to his questions. It has been so long since I have had a good listener or had anything worth listening to.

My heart broke, once, when I came to this planet and had children with a woman who claimed to love me, yet only loved herself. I made sacrifices and lost even more of myself, but he was always there, knowing who I really was, secretly loving me from afar.

He kisses me often, softly, as though his touch could break some part of me. I have found myself entranced by how he looks at me. His eyes hiding depths of passion that both entice me and frighten me. I want to give in. I want him to _take_ , but he continues to caress and whisper heartfelt things that I have never heard before. Things that cause my pants to tighten and his eyes to sparkle.

Our first time is unlike anything before it. He was gentle, yet fiercely passionate, as he is in all things. He took my hand and showed me a world I did not know of, a world where men can love and be loved by one another and delight in a lover's solid embrace. I realized, then, in his arms, that a woman's touch was never enough for me, that another man's strength and power was what I craved. It was not unheard of among our people, but I have not learned of those ways. Those rituals are lost.

As Winter turns warm, I bury my previous understanding beneath the Spring growth.

 


End file.
